


Blood Alone

by Alcyone



Category: Batman Beyond, DCU, DCU - Comicverse, DCU Animated
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-26
Updated: 2010-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-14 03:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alcyone/pseuds/Alcyone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The adventures of Damian Wayne in Neo-Gotham. Co-starring Terry McGinnis, Bruce Wayne and Ace, the Good Bat Dog.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Alone

He can almost hear the pounding of the blood at his ears and his muscles relax enough for his body to absorb without injury the impact of the drop before tensing, each group working to push his legs, propelling him to the downed figure in the middle of the park and when the bright light grows and Grayson yells—“Robin, don’t!”—he’s too far gone, traveling too fast, cannot stop in time.

And the white wall hits him.

*

  
Damian has a moment of hope so strong it’s a hollow ache in his chest when he wakes up in a Batcave (not _the_ cave, the differences are subtle but much too marked to be accidental) and learns there is a Batman here (here being whatever world this is that the pathetic idiot sent him to). Stupid and weak, but maybe, maybe it’s not Grayson and maybe, maybe…

It’s yet another annoyance. Sounds around Drake’s age. Refuses to shut up like Grayson. He’s tried to tie up Damian, but his knots are even more pathetic than Todd’s. While he babbles on about something pointless, Damian frees his wrists. He is so fed up after a minute (and is exhausted from the fight that landed him here and is lightheaded from the abrupt trip and his head just hurts more the longer he looks around this Batcave that isn’t his father’s Batcave—not that he will ever admit that to any, even to himself) that he snaps.

“I can’t take out Grayson,” he sneers, “but you’re not him.” Before the fake can react, Damian dives at him, slamming him against the edge of a table. He grunts in surprise and pain and Damian seizes the chance to punch him. His fist makes an incredibly satisfying sound against the full-face mask. Before he can push his advantage further, blue-white electricity arcs from the streamlined Batman suit, shocking him. He falls back with a yell.

“I thought Robins were supposed to be Batman’s little elves,” the other taunts.

Damian tastes the fury climbing up his throat like bile. “You are _not_ Batman.” He fists a batarang. “And I’m _sick_ of all the impostors.”

Before he can rip the mask off (because it doesn’t belong to _him_ because he is _not_ Batman because Batman isn’t an unschooled chatterbox with delusions of grandeur), a voice freezes them both just as they dive at each other.

“What are you doing?” And suddenly Damian can feel his heart pounding at the base of his neck. He knows that voice. He knows that tone. He would recognize it anywhere. To his surprise, a dog races toward him first, barking madly. Damian recognizes the species, Great Dane, as the massive animal skids to a stop in front of him, growling in warning. But there isn’t an animal that can so much as intimidate him. Damian calls out, “Father!” before he is even aware that he is speaking.

The fake visibly startles and turns to look at him, but Damian doesn’t pay him attention. He is stunned by what he sees.

An old man. He leans on a walking stick, back slightly bowed and half his face hidden by dark goggles. He is dressed impeccably, but his hair is a shock of white and there are deep wrinkles on his face. If it isn’t for the voice (still imperious, still unflinching), Damian would have not have believed what he fears is true. But he has always been stubborn and he refuses to accept it.

“Where is my father?” he asks, tone demanding an answer. He straightens, disregarding the would-be Batman to focus on the older man. “Where’s Pennyworth? And Grayson? And Drake?”

There is the barest tightening of the old man’s features. “Who are you?” He ignores Damian’s questions. “How do you know of them?” His knotted hand tightens around the head of his cane.

“I am Damian Wayne,” he announces clearly. “I am Bruce Wayne’s son. The _real_ Batman’s son.” The last he aims at the annoyance in black and red whose jaw is hanging open.

“I have no son,” the old man says just as the other recovers his ability to speak.

“Wait, wait. Kid, how old are you? Eight?”

Damian puffs out his chest. “I am ten-years-old,” he retorts through clenched teeth. “Not that it makes any difference to you. At three, I could kill you blindfolded.”

The fake Batman, mouth still hanging open, points from Damian to the old man and back. “If you’re ten…Wayne, you…how did—on second thought, I don’t want to know.”

“I _didn’t_ ,” the old man snaps. He turns to Damian. “Explain.” There is an unsaid, but clearly audible _now_ hanging off the end of his command. And looks aside, Damian knows his father’s voice. He knows every inflection, every variance. And it’s been far too long since he heard it last. He’s speaking before he’s even aware of it.

The old man doesn’t believe him at first. Damian doesn’t blame him. He acquiesces to the blood test and answers every question his father shoots at him while ignoring every one that McGinnis—as Bruce named him—voices. Damian describes the Gotham he left, how Grayson now wears the suit, how Drake is usually on his own, their assurance that his father—the father who supposedly died—is still alive and the fight that landed him here. The dog sits beside Bruce and doesn’t growl, but doesn’t take its eyes off Damian. Just like the animal, Bruce’s gaze never flickers away from Damian’s face. It’s an intimidation technique, one of many to make the speaker nervous and more likely to accidentally confess to some detail he shouldn’t. Damian isn’t intimidated. It’s too surreal.

When he is finished, Bruce watches him for a while longer. “You _are_ from a parallel world,” he finally says.

McGinnis chokes. “Are you serious? He’s from another _universe_?”

“Didn’t your parents ever teach you it is rude to interrupt another when he is speaking?” Damian asks silkily. McGinnis rounds on him. By this time, he’s taken of the mask and Damian’s guess about his age has proven correct.

“You’re missing ten years and two feet to talk to me with any kind of tone, twip.”

The exact meaning of the word might be lost on him, but Damian can recognize an insult.

“And you’re too incompetent to wear that symbol!” he shoots back. McGinnis bristles.

“Hey, brat, I _am_ Batman!”

“You’re no Batman! You’re an insult to the name!”

“Who do you think you are, twip? You—”

“Enough!”

Damian and McGinnis jump. Damian can feel his heart at the hollow of his neck. He had forgotten the old man and the voice and the tone are so familiar…

Bruce glares at both in warning and the dog, previously lying beside its master, has jumped up. “McGinnis,” he says, turning to the boy still wearing the suit, “what did you find?”

“Nothing really,” McGinnis answers. “By the time I got there, the energy spike had faded and there was only this twip on the ground.”

“Anyone else?”

“Not that the sensors could pick up.”

“Tomorrow you will return to the park and search for any residue traces. For now, I’ll study whatever the suit has picked up.”

“What about him?” McGinnis asks just as Damian says, “I can help!”

“You will remain here,” Bruce answers sharply. Not angry, but warning. He will not tolerate an argument.

“Are you sure?” McGinnis is glancing askance at Damian.

“Turn your nose up at me again and I’ll smash it into your brain.”

“Can you even reach it?”

“ _Enough_.” For a moment, Damian believes the dog’s growls are actually Bruce. From McGinnis’ face, Damian presumes he’s thinking the same thing. “Damian will remain here under my supervision until we can find some way to return him to his time. Until then, you will _get along_.”

“Fine,” McGinnis huffs.

Damian bites the inside of his cheek and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

*

  
McGinnis doesn’t leave immediately. He drops several excuses that are just that: excuses. Neither Damian nor Bruce believes him. Finally, Bruce mentions that McGinnis can take this time to see if he still has a girlfriend. It takes Damian a moment to realize the old man is teasing McGinnis and only after the older boy rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. Bruce walks toward him, cane tapping the floor, and rests his hand on McGinnis’ shoulder. Damian strains his hearing, but the old man is speaking much too low. McGinnis exhales sharply and nods.

“Fine,” he says. “I’ll drop by tomorrow morning.” He bends down to scratch the dog’s head. “Keep an eye on Wayne, will you, Ace? You can bite the twip’s fingers if he tries anything.”

The dog barks happily. Damian turns his head away. The hands crossed in front of his chest ball into fists. It’s only when McGinnis’ footsteps disappear up the stairs that Bruce turns to Damian.

“Come here,” he orders. When Damian is about a foot away, the old man moves forward with surprising agility. Something closes around his wrist.

“Hey!” Damian jumps back. A slender metal band hugs his skin. “What—”

“So you don’t get lost,” Bruce says dryly. “Follow me. I’ll put you in a spare bedroom.”

“Wait! Father, how’s my—where’s mother?”

Bruce has removed the goggles and Damian catches an odd flicker he can’t name in the dark blue eyes.

“Talia disappeared several years ago.”

“And my grandfather? Is he still here?”

“Ra’s never really dies,” his father answers, which is not an answer at all. And just like that Damian understands his father is trying to hide something from him (shield him from it?).

“Where’s my mother?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” Bruce says sternly. “You should be focusing on returning.”

“Where is mother?” Damian crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“She disappeared.”

“What did my grandfather do to my mother?”

The old man’s face grows utterly impassive. Damian doesn’t know why he keeps pushing. It’s an almost irrational need to know even as he knows it will be nothing good.

“Did he do it? Did he use…her?”

Bruce doesn’t answer. Which is Damian’s answer.

His mother is a criminal. She kills. She stands against his father. She tried to control Damian and use him to kill Grayson. She has replaced him with a little brother who isn’t even out of the tube yet. His grandfather as good as killed her.

Something damp and cold touches his hand. Damian jumps, reflexively preparing to attack. The dog nudges his hand again with its nose. It whines almost in question, ears turned toward him. Damian bites the inside of his cheek and looks up.

“I don’t like dogs,” he declares. “You should have obtained a cat.”

Bruce snorts. “Move, kid.”

*

  
Early morning and the grounds are shrouded in a thin mist. Damian could not reconcile sleep so he opted for wandering around the Manor. Ace had been sleeping outside his room and the dog awoke the moment Damian opened the door. He’d followed Damian down the stairs and outside. Once there, Damian stands on the lawn and looks up at the house.

Again he’s struck by how similar and how different everything is. He superimposes his memory of the Manor over this one and his stomach feels hollow. He misses Grayson, irritating and oblivious and far too familiar as he may be. And he misses Pennyworth’s apparent sixth sense for knowing when someone in the family is hungry. He sinks onto the bottom step, angrily kicking at the dirt. Ace sits beside him and doesn’t growl.

He hears the gate open and he stands. Soon McGinnis comes into view. The dog wags its tail and runs toward him. McGinnis laughs.

“Hey, boy. How’s the old man? Twip didn’t give you trouble, did he?” When he sees Damian, he startles. “Damn, you’re a creepy kid.”

Damian’s face darkens.

“You know, little children should still be in bed.” McGinnis tries to ruffle Damian’s hair. He aims for McGinnis’ elbow, intent on breaking it. The dog dives between them, barking furiously.

“Whoa, easy!” McGinnis yells at both the dog and Damian.

“I have not given you permission to touch me.”

“You have issues. You know that?” McGinnis scowls. Damian sneers.

“Didn’t we just get rid of you a few hours ago?”

“Ha! You both wish.” Before Damian can react, McGinnis ruffles his hair again and runs into the house. Damian chases him with a half-yell. He can only catch McGinnis’ laughter. They only stop running when they reach the cave and Bruce freezes them both with a glare. The computer behind Bruce hums softly. Damian catches a glimpse of what looks like a profile before Bruce closes the window.

“Did you find anything?” he shoots at McGinnis. In answer, McGinnis raises a small silver disc.

“Suit picked up some energy residue.”

“Could you identify it?” Bruce takes the disc from McGinnis’ hand and slides it through a slender opening on the computer.

“Sort of.” At Bruce’s raised eyebrow, McGinnis explains, “Suit could. But then it started spitting out physics jargon and a whole load of zeroes and ones showed up and my visor fogged up.”

Damian snorts. McGinnis rounds on him immediately.

“I don’t want to hear anything from you, twip. As if you could identify energy residues.”

“ _I_ was trained from birth to become Batman,” Damian snaps. “I am capable of identifying anything I need to.”

“Then why haven’t you identified an exit yet?”

“Boys…” Bruce warns as they’re both gearing up. “Do I need to put you both in a corner?”

Exactly what being put in a corner means is lost on Damian, but McGinnis is indignant enough for both of them.

“You trying to say something, Wayne?”

“You’re giving me a headache.” Bruce quickly scans the information McGinnis brought back. He nods to himself. “I’m going to need one of the scanners at Wayne-Powers.” He stands up and Ace jogs toward him. He ushers Damian and McGinnis out in front of him.

“McGinnis, you’ll drive me to the company. Damian?”

“Yes, F-sir.” Damian catches himself just in time. Nevertheless, both Bruce and McGinnis notice his almost-slip.

“You will remain within the Manor’s grounds. If you try to leave, I _will_ know and I _will_ be displeased.” The look on the old man’s face has Understood? written across it.

“I can help,” he tries to argue.

“You can help by remaining here. It is too much of a hassle to get you an appropriate cover when you will be leaving soon.”

“ _And_ you won’t miss the early morning cartoons,” McGinnis adds brightly.

Damian consoles himself imagining the look on the absurdly pleased face after Damian dislocates all of the major bones in McGinnis’ body.

*

  
Breaking into the cave proved easier than Damian thought. Mimicking McGinnis’ voice, he bypassed the door. After finding some lean turkey bacon in the fridge, Ace no longer growled at him when he tried to go down the stairs.

The computer’s security, however, is exceptional and it takes Damian several hours to break in. He pulls up every file on McGinnis. Most of the information is useless, an address, phone numbers, his school name. There is a juvenile penal record he delights in; he memorizes every word. Information about his family. McGinnis lives with his mother and brother after his father was murdered. Damian skips the details about Warren McGinnis and focuses on the one responsible, a man named Derek Powers now the villain Blight. Damian leans back in his chair. He knows McGinnis’ primary motive for donning the mask, but what made him stay on?

It is entirely by accident that he learns of the Batman Beyond Project. An act to prevent against a Batman-less world pioneered by none other than Amanda Waller. Distaste curls Damian’s lips. It is not their concern. They had no right to steal his father’s DNA to satisfy their pathetic yearning for a future Batman. And they would have even killed McGinnis’ parents. Which, Damian leans his head to the side in consideration, wouldn’t have been a conspicuous loss, but they weren’t villains (that he knows) and he knows his father would never have accepted it. His father would have hunted the murderer down and his father would have…

His father wouldn’t have killed them. But he doesn’t exactly know what his father would have done. He is stuck in a different time—no, a different _universe_ —where his father is _old_ and some _upstart_ who only exists because of a heinous plot designed behind his father’s back wears a suit that by all rights belongs to him. Well, the him of this universe.

Which leads to yet another surprising bit of knowledge. He doesn’t exist in this world. Or at least his father has no information about him. Which Damian knows means he had never been born. Old or not, the man sleeping upstairs is Batman and Batman is the greatest detective in the world. And, no matter which universe he found himself in, Damian knows he would seek his father out.

But there is nothing about him. There is a dossier in the computer on everyone his father has encountered, who has helped or opposed him, but there isn’t even a paragraph on any Damian Wayne.

The one son. The true son. Isn’t him.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

Damian jumps. Bruce doesn’t appear surprised to see him in front of the computer obviously doing something he isn’t supposed to. Knowing he’s caught, Damian doesn’t bother hiding the open screens. Bruce shuffles toward him and closes the window with the information pertaining to Project Batman Beyond.

“Don’t tell Terry,” he says.

“Don’t tell—?” Damian frowns in confusion. “He doesn’t know?”

“No, he does not,” Bruce replies curtly. “Nor does he need to. You will keep this information to yourself.”

“Why shouldn’t he know he’s—” Damian doesn’t know why he’s trying to defend McGinnis (is he defending him?). Bruce cuts his question short.

“Because he is not my son. Warren McGinnis loved him and raised him. Warren McGinnis is his father. Blood alone doesn’t a family make.”

Damian can’t help it; he flinches. Bruce notices. His voice is slightly less gruff as he orders, “Turn off the computer and go back upstairs. Do not let me catch you down here unsupervised again.”

“Yes, sir.” Damian slips by him and it’s all he can do to stop himself from bolting up the stairs. He grasps his hands in front of him and digs his nails into his skin.

*

  
The next day, he follows McGinnis to school. He remembers Bruce’s orders, but he only said Damian wasn’t allowed in the cave unsupervised. Gotham is not the cave. As for the not leaving the Manor’s grounds, that was only while Bruce was out. Besides, _this_ man isn’t his real father. So he ignores the slight clenching of his stomach and sneaks out of the Manor. He loses his way twice, but finally finds McGinnis’ house just as he’s leaving. Two blocks before the school, he meets up with two girls. There had been information on them in the computer as well. The one with black hair is Dana Tan, McGinnis’ girlfriend. The one with the obnoxiously noticeable pink hair is Maxine Gibson. She, unlike the other girl, knows McGinnis is Batman. From her profile, Damian surmises her role to be somewhat like Oracle’s with a little Pennyworth thrown in.

She’s the one who notices him. She glances at him over her shoulder as he walks some distance behind them. At the school corner, she taps McGinnis’ shoulder and jerks a thumb in Damian’s direction. McGinnis turns around and, even from a distance, Damian sees the look of surprise and annoyance that flickers over his face. The other girl turns around as well. She asks McGinnis something and his answer doesn’t make her happy. McGinnis apologizes, but her frown only deepens. The other girl links arms with her and drags her away. McGinnis waves as they walk away. His smile fades as he jogs to where Damian is waiting.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. “Does Wayne know you’re here?”

“He’s sleeping,” Damian replies shortly.

“Look, twip,” McGinnis runs a hand through his hair, “I have school. If you’re bored just watch TV. Or raid a closet. Wayne must have some old toys somewhere.”

Damian’s tone borders on scandalized. “I am not a child!”

“You’re nine—”

“Ten!”

“Whatever. Point is you can’t come to school with me.”

“I didn’t come here to go to school,” Damian scoffs. “There is nothing _your_ teachers could teach me.”

“Then why are you here?” Terry crosses his arms in front of his chest. He stands a little straighter, glaring down at Damian from above. Trying to intimidate him. Damian lifts an eyebrow.

“I’m studying you.”

Judging from his reaction, that wasn’t an answer Terry was expecting. “What—why would you want to study me?”

Damian shoots him a look that screams, _Are you that stupid?_

In the distance, the school bell rings. Terry glances over his shoulder. “Okay, twip, I’ve got class. Just go back to the Manor before Wayne finds out you’re gone.”

“No.”

“You have cabin fever? Is that it? Go to the arcade then. I’ll give you some creds.”

“No!”

“Fine! Stay here all day!” McGinnis takes four steps to the school. He pauses, inhaling deeply, before whirling around. “You can’t follow me!”

“I told you,” Damian insists. “I’m studying you. Obviously I have to follow you.”

McGinnis groans. “I’m slagged. Could you please be psychotic elsewhere?”

Damian crosses his arms in front of his chest and waits.

McGinnis slaps a hand to his forehead.

*

  
“This situation could be worse.”

“I blame your reliance on the suit and lack of actual skill.”

“Shut up, twip.”

Damian refuses to dwell on how he ended up inside a cage. A cage rigged with explosives. A cage rigged with explosives by someone called Mad Stan. Who is currently yelling to himself about government corruption, citizens getting high on information and The System.

Damian refuses to dwell on it because he might end up breaking the No-Killing rule again. And he doubts Bruce will help him get home if he kills an irritating loudmouth. And whoever this Mad Stan might be.

“Okay, listen, kid. My suit’s in my bag.” McGinnis nodded over to the innocuous brown backpack lying at the door to the arcade. “I’ll try to distract him and you—what are you doing?”

“ _I’m_ the son of Batman,” Damian hisses so only McGinnis can hear. He grabs hold of the vertical bars and shimmies up before vaulting over the top. Whoever Mad Stan is he can’t be much of an opponent. What kind of incompetent moron forgets to put a roof on a cage?

He lands on the other side and pulls out a butterfly knife, smirking. “ _I’m_ always prepared.”

“No, kid, don’t! If you piss him off—”

Mad Soon-To-Be-Known-As-Unconscious Stan is too busy soliloquizing to notice Damian diving at him. He rams the man into a wall. His knife slices through the band keeping the trigger in Mad Stan’s hand away and it falls from his loosening grip. The trigger rolls away.

“Ha! See?” Damian’s gloating is cut short when a fist slams into the side of his head, knocking him several feet away. Stars explode in his vision.

“You see this?!” Stan bellows. He doesn’t even look shaken from his run-in with the wall. A wall that now has a Stan-like crater imprinted on it. “You see?! There’s only one solution. BLOW IT UP!”

Stan rushes Damian, but before the man reaches him a dark blur rams him from the side. Stan crashes through a bench as Batman lands on the floor. A glance over Damian’s shoulder reveals the cage is empty and the backpack is nowhere to be seen.

“Get out of here!” McGinnis yells, fending off one of Mad Stan’s blows.

“Tt.” Damian picks up a bench leg from the one Stan destroyed and cracks it over Stan’s head. Not even dizzied, Stan just seems to get angrier.

“It’s The System!” he thunders. “We need to free the people from The System!” He hauls up Damian by his shirt, but McGinnis jumps on his back.

“Time for a nap, big guy,” he insists. A cloud of white gas streams from his wrist, enveloping Stan’s face. With a yell, Stan grabs McGinnis by the back of his suit and throws him against Damian. They hit the floor, rolling to a stop. Stan coughs, beating his hands wildly to clear the gas. His eyes are bloodshot when it finally abates. He rushes them only to sway violently and drop right in front of them.

“Does he have some sort of superhuman resistance?” Damian asks quizzically. He’s unceremoniously hauled up to his feet. “Hey!”

“We’re leaving,” McGinnis forces through gritted teeth. Even through the facemask, Damian can see his features contorted with anger. McGinnis only pauses long enough to change out of the suit before he’s herding Damian out of the subway station and into a park across the street. Damian wrenches his shirt out of McGinnis’ grasp.

“Let go!” He can feel his pulse at his wrists and he’s biting his inner cheek.

“What is the matter with you?” McGinnis throws his arms in the air. “You’re not from here! You don’t know anything about this time! And you just rush in without thinking! You say you’re Wayne’s son, but you are nothing like him!”

And Damian snaps.

“I _AM_ HIS SON!” he screams and tackles his usurper to the ground.

McGinnis fighting is nothing like Grayson or Drake. He’s closer to Todd. Rough, but still controlled. Willing to play dirty. And if _he’s_ willing to do so, Damian has no need to pull his punches. The fight quickly devolves into a brawl. Damian lands as many hits as he misses. McGinnis never actually hits him; he's not trying to, which only makes Damian angrier. Finally, he falls, breathing hard.

“You,” McGinnis gasps for breath beside him, “have serious issues.”

“Ha!” Damian drops his defeated act and sucker-punches McGinnis. Or he tries. Unlike Drake had been, McGinnis isn’t stupidly trusting. Damian remembers that he has a juvenile record and ran with the kind of people Drake looks down at. McGinnis grabs his wrist and uses Damian’s momentum to throw him facedown on the grass. Before Damian can react, there’s a foot pressing down on his spine and his arm, which McGinnis never let go of, is being jerked behind his back.

“Give?” asks McGinnis.

“Let go of me!” Damian struggles to get free. McGinnis loosens his hold and Damian dives at him. He abruptly finds himself on his back, winded and surprised.

“What’s your problem?” McGinnis demands.

“You don’t deserve it!” Damian screams. “None of you! Not you and not Drake! I’ve had to relearn to fight because I’m not allowed to kill! My mother thinks me an enemy to her! My mother! But I get nothing! My father…my father prefers Drake…and Grayson _doesn’t get it_! You get the suit and my father trusts you! Why do you get to be _him_? What’s so special about _you_?!”

Damian’s back bows slightly following the force of his rant. McGinnis is quiet for a moment.

“Wayne didn’t give me the suit,” he begins conversationally. “I stole it the first time.”

“Stole—” Damian splutters.

“Yeah. Wayne wasn’t too happy.” McGinnis laughs. He sobers quickly. “But my old man...he was killed and I couldn’t just let the guy responsible get away. I had to do something. Wayne can’t go out anymore because, you know.”

Damian does. Not that he likes thinking about it. It’s difficult to reconcile his image of his father with the frail old man he left at the house.

“After we stopped Powers,” McGinnis continues, “Wayne offered me the job. There’s nothing special. I was just the only one there.”

Damian glares at his feet. He furiously plucks blades of grass from the slightly damp ground.

“So what’s with you?” Exhaling, McGinnis sits down next to him. “What’s your issue with Grayson?”

“Talks too much.”

“And Drake?”

“He hates me. And I hate him.”

“Doesn’t sound like him.”

At his words, Damian looks up. “You know Drake?”

McGinnis scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, we, uh, met a while ago.”

“Why isn’t _he_ wearing the suit?”

“He…retired.”

“Doesn’t sound like him,” Damian quotes McGinnis’ earlier words.

“Different universes, remember?” McGinnis is nervous. Damian can read it in his facial expression, his closed body language.

“What happened to Drake?”

“Look, kid…”

“What happened to him?”

McGinnis sighs. “You know the Joker?”

Damian remembers the clown, remembers the cool weight of the crowbar in his hands, remembers the toxic blood smeared on his face. “Tt.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” McGinnis looks away. “The Joker happened. Drake retired. The end.”

The thought of Drake failing usually makes him happy. Not this time. He just feels cold. “The Joker should have been put down years ago,” he says finally.

“Yeah.” McGinnis shields his eyes as he looks up at the sky. “The others must be worried about you.”

Damian scoffs. “Grayson’s probably relieved I’m gone. Drake must be celebrating. Even Pennyworth…”

“Well, you _are_ an annoying twip,” McGinnis drops casually. An acidic retort is on the tip of Damian’s tongue when he continues, “But they’re probably worried anyway. You’re Robin, aren’t you?”

“So Grayson can keep an eye on me,” Damian spits.

“I don’t think so. He’s Batman, right? He could have just locked you up in a corner of the cave.” McGinnis shrugs. “Instead, he gave you the Robin suit. That means he has to trust you. On some level. Or do they hand out a uniform to everyone who shows up claiming to be a descendant of one of Batman’s enemies?”

“Tt.” His throat aches. Damian turns his head away. “As if he could lock me up. I can escape from anything.”

McGinnis rolls his eyes. “Sure, twip.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“When you stop being a twip.”

“What does that word even _mean_?”

“See? You’re a twip.”

“ _Stop calling me that_!”

*

  
When they return to Wayne Manor, Ace isn’t the only one waiting for them.

“I told you not to leave the grounds without permission.” Disapproval lines Bruce’s face heavily.

Before Damian can come up with an excuse, McGinnis shrugs. “Eh, it was mostly my fault. I provoked the twip. But hey, we ripped Mad Stan.”

“Yes, I heard that a young boy tried to fight him and had to be saved by Batman.”

“I’ve been working for you for years and it is _still_ creepy how much you know.”

Damian scoffs. “He’s Batman,” he says as if that answers everything. He can almost swear there’s a smirk lining Bruce’s mouth.

McGinnis rolls his eyes. “Now is not the time to start sucking up.”

“I merely stated a fact.”

“You are such a brat.”

“And you think too highly of yourself.”

“Glad to see you’re both getting along. As usual.” Bruce looks pointedly at the rising bruises on McGinnis.

“I let him win,” Damian responds just as McGinnis replies, “I was teaching the twip a lesson.”

They scowl at each other.

“Get inside, both of you.” Bruce stands aside, nodding toward the door. He frowns warningly at Damian. “And if you leave the Manor without permission again, I promise you will not be able to walk anywhere for several hours.”

“Why?” In answer, the bracelet Damian had almost forgotten about grows warm.

“Tough luck, kid.” McGinnis rubs his knuckles painfully on Damian’s scalp. Damian aims for his stomach this time. Ace barks.

“Don’t bother trying, boy,” Bruce tells the dog as he walks away. “Don’t even bother.”

*

  
“Don’t be so familiar with me.”

As if Damian isn’t unhappy already, McGinnis has taken to calling Damian ‘Dami’. Damian is barely reigning the urge to drop him off a roof.

“Damian’s too pretentious for you,” McGinnis quips as he dips his sponge in the sudsy water of the bucket. “Dami fits you better. Now, wax on, wax off, Dami-san.”

“…What.”

“Right. The son of Batman doesn’t know about Mr. Miyagi.”

“Who?”

McGinnis blinks at Damian’s blank look.

“Wayne!” he yells over his shoulder. “What has your other self been teaching this kid?”

“My father is lost in time,” Damian snaps.

“Oh, right. Wayne! What has the other Grayson been teaching this kid?”

If Damian had any doubts McGinnis is insane, they’re gone.

Bruce only turns around long enough to arch an eyebrow at their work.

“You missed a spot. Several, in fact.”

“Oh, come on, Wayne.” McGinnis throws the sponge he’d been using to clean the ship inside the bucket. “We’re not done yet.”

“I saw,” Bruce answers dryly.

Damian finishes his section and hides McGinnis’ bucket. He walks over to Bruce and peers over his shoulder. He’s welding shut the final pieces on a device meant to help Damian return to his universe. From the specs, Damian determines it is supposed to match the vibrations left by the energy spikes and amplify them. McGinnis and he planted a sensor in the park and it had been recording the growing energy readings.

“Someone’s trying to find you,” Bruce said.

McGinnis smirked. “Told you so.”

“Like anyone’s interested in what you have to say,” Damian groused.

Bruce pauses in his work long enough to look at Damian. “Standing over my shoulder won’t make me work faster.”

“I just want to watch,” answers Damian.

“Hey, Dami!” McGinnis calls. “You’re not done!”

“Yes, I am,” says Damian without turning around.

“No, you’re—oh, you are. …Where’s my bucket? _Twip_!”

Damian smiles. “I’ll take Ace out for a walk. Come on, dog.”

With a yawn, Ace stands from where it rested near Bruce’s feet. The dog circles Damian once then curls over his feet, its weight knocking him off-balance. Damian falls and Ace settles its massive head on his lap.

McGinnis grins. “Good bat dog.”

*

  
It’s on the fourth day that Damian returns. After a few trials, Bruce finally gets the device work. McGinnis accompanies him to the park. Bruce hadn’t said goodbye; McGinnis waves. It doesn’t take long for the device to find a spike and resonate with it. There is a jerk around Damian’s abdomen and a much too bright light. When it fades, McGinnis has disappeared. Instead, Damian’s in the cave (the real Batcave) looking up at Drake’s scowl, Pennyworth’s questioning look and Grayson’s obnoxiously wide grin.

“Hey, baby genius. Miss me?”

Damian scowls.

Grayson’s smile widens. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Welcome back, Master Damian.” Pennyworth’s tone seems to imply that Damian simply went out for lunch. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Great. Can I go mourn the week I lost looking for the ungrateful brat now?” asks Drake.

“I never asked you to,” Damian snaps. He blinks. “Week?”

“Yeah. What? You didn’t think I was going to leave you stranded in some strange world all alone and without my excellent guidance, did you?” Grayson ruffles Damian’s hair. He sulks, but doesn’t move out from under the warm weight of Grayson’s hand. “Where did you go anyway?”

“Tt. You’re such a twip. Pennyworth, is there anything to eat?”

“Of course, Master Damian. Did you fail to find food over there?”

“You never taught my father how to cook.”

Drake frowns. “Bruce? What do you mean?”

Damian ignores him. As he leaves, he hears Grayson ask Drake, “What did he call me?”

“A twip. I think.”

“…What does that even _mean_?”


End file.
